


storms and mountains

by lisbethsalamanders



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Established Relationship, F/F, Family Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, Mild Sexual Content, Mutiny Exchange, Romance, Some talk of grief and depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 04:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13181994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisbethsalamanders/pseuds/lisbethsalamanders
Summary: The trip is Donna’s brainchild. It’s officially a celebration of their first Christmas as a semi-family (a word that makes everyone but her wrinkle their noses and grimace but it means a lot to her, dammit!), the first with Cameron as more than a friend and colleague. But it’s also about resetting, about disappearing for a few days after what turned out to be a long, stressful season.





	storms and mountains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dotpng](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotpng/gifts).



> Shout out to the lovely dotpng for putting this exchange together and creating a setting for more of fic of these two to be written. Love them and love all the other Cam/Donna writers out there!!
> 
> Enjoy your fluff and your holidays, dotpng, hope I got that snowy time vibe to your liking!

It’s four hours to Lake Tahoe from San Francisco. There are granola bar wrappers all over the floor and seven bathroom breaks and one very loud fight over the radio station that nearly makes Donna _actually_ threaten to turn the car around, but they arrive at the ski resort relatively intact. 

The trip is Donna’s brainchild. It’s officially a celebration of their first Christmas as a semi-family (a word that makes everyone but her wrinkle their noses and grimace but it means a lot to her, dammit!), the first with Cameron as more than a friend and colleague. But it’s also about resetting, about disappearing for a few days after what turned out to be a long, stressful season, the first missing a few key players and full of watching her girlfriend ( _girlfriend_ , it’s still new enough that the word makes her heart leap) grit her teeth through company functions and crowded holiday parties. She brings it up after a loud Thanksgiving full of extended family and drop ins until all hours of the night and after no objections, she books it.

The place is lovely, wooden cabins dotting the snowy landscape around the mountain with one large lodge in the middle. Her research tells her the main lodge comes complete with a pool, gym, spa, arcade, (which made Haley’s attitude about the trip go from begrudging to cautiously excited) and lessons in skiing and snowboarding (the latter of which made Joanie, freshly home from her first semester studying film and photography at NYU, perk up. Any novel sort of danger, Donna guesses, showing the pride and hiding the terror). But their unit, separate and apart from the lodge itself, is what made her pick the place. Two stories, two bedrooms and a loft, HBO included on the big screen TV, and a giant, stone fireplace. It’s a getaway that can be either eventful or peaceful depending on the mood. It’s perfect.

Cameron passes out on the couch almost immediately after their arrival, not waking up for a late dinner or throughout the entire night, much to a chagrin Donna hates that she’s feeling. She lies in the master bedroom, cold on the queen sized mattress covered in a woolen dark green comforter and soft blankets, unable to sleep despite spending four hours navigating desert to mountains that day. She finds herself getting up periodically to check on everyone, but leaves them alone. That night passes slowly.

The only plans on their first full day are seeing Joanie off to her first snowboarding lesson, which Donna does gleefully, much to Joanie’s horror. But Cameron is up and out before they leave, returning hours after Donna does, covered in snow and silent. After grabbing a box of Cheez-Its from the cabinet, she mutters that she’d just taken a hike and is going for a bath. Donna, deep in a marathon of _Deep Space Nine_ on TV, feels the same sinking from last night creep into her stomach. Knowing it will be a few hours before Cameron emerges, Donna gives up on the current distraction and heads to the main lodge for only one cup of mulled wine followed by several of regular spiced cider and to watch Haley beat the high score on Ms. Pac-Man. 

She and Haley walk back once it’s dark, stopping in a little glen where no one’s watching to flop to the ground and make snow angels. 

She stares at the stars, soaked to the skin and freezing, when Haley asks, “Are you guys okay?” Donna turns to her daughter, dark eyes sparkling with concern. No one cuts through to the heart quite like her, she’s beginning to learn.

She turns back to the sky, watching a plane fly across the night. “I think so,” she says. Her unsure tone makes Haley furrow her brow in concern, but Donna tosses a handful of snow at her. “It was a long month. I think we all just need some quiet right now.”

Cameron is asleep again when they’re hanging their coats and placing their gloves, scarves and hats atop the radiator. At least it’s on their bed this time, a copy of _Needful Things_ open on her chest. Donna dog ears Cameron’s place before closing it and placing it on the nightstand. Climbing into bed and pulling the blankets over them both, she pushes Cameron’s hair back, watching her eyes flicker beneath their lids. She fights the urge to wake her, to pull her in and kiss the frown lines from her cheeks and eyes. But Cameron reminds her of a wild animal sometimes: cautious, but trusting if you let her come to you. So she rolls over and turns off the light.

Donna takes her own walk the next morning, relishing the burn in her thighs from the incline and the arctic wind burning her face red. It’s a small mountain, more of a glorified hill really, but it’s enough to be out in the cold, soaking in the winter sun. Only a few times in her youth had she and her family gone someplace like this. She’d never give up the permanent sunshine of either California or Texas, but once in awhile she craves the wind and snow.

The cabin is empty when she returns, so she uses the skills picked up in years of camping with Gordon to make a fire and climbs onto the couch with the newest Grisham, her own form of not-beach reading. The crackling of the fire suctions any excess energy from her body and she’s totally absorbed for five full chapters before the front door opens and Cameron trudges in. 

“Walk?”

“Yeah,” Cameron mumbles, shaking her coat off like a puppy and tossing it on a kitchen chair. “I’m gonna take a bath.” Donna feels her chest tighten as she nods, eyes turning blurry over the pages. It’s only a moment, however, before Cameron’s at the threshold of the bedroom, hands balled up in the overlong sleeves of her black sweatshirt. “Do you, um, wanna join?”

Donna’s eyebrows dart up. They’ve taken their fair number of showers together over the past few months, but baths? Baths are Cameron’s territory, her sacred space to retreat when her brain becomes too loud or too crowded. The invitation is big. “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Donna says, closing her hardcover and getting up.

The water’s already running and Donna smiles at the steam rising from the tub. “Did you steal my essential oils?”

The corner of Cameron’s mouth twitches as she unzips and steps out of her jeans. “Only this one. And lavender sometimes. I thought peppermint might be nice for here, you know?”

Donna nods in agreement, shedding the last of her clothes and stepping into the water. 

It’s utterly silent once the water’s turned off. Cameron leans against her, back to her front, and Donna listens to their breathing come together slowly. The water’s almost too hot, just the way they both prefer. It seeps into her pores and softens her muscles. The afternoon sun shines in through the window, and Donna runs a finger over the top of the water, making the reflection ripple. She watches the way their bodies fit together beneath the surface, her legs fitting on either side of Cam’s bony knees. She rests her head against Cameron’s temple and closes her eyes.

Moments pass in the soft silence. Outside the wind picks up and Donna hears the low whistle through the trees, branches sweeping against the walls and the windows. It all feels a million miles away. 

Startling her, Cameron turns to face her, swishing water onto the floor. “Listen, I know I’ve been -”

“Cam, I know. It’s okay.” 

She sighs, drawing her knees into her chest. “I just - I hate this time of year. It gets dark so early and there’s all this pressure to be cheerful, plus so much reminds me of being a kid and my, you know...” She trails off, placing her hands on her face and running them through her hair, soaking it. “It only got worse with Tom. We’d always visit his family and I could just tell they didn’t like me but he wanted things to go well, so I tried to have fun for him but it’s - it’s so hard. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.” 

It’s been a suspicion for some time, but it makes Donna’s heart ache hearing it spelled out in so many words. Taking her hands from the water, she places them gently against Cameron’s cheeks. “Yeah, I thought so.” She leans in, kissing her cheeks, her nose. “I remember, from last year and from back in Texas, how you get this time of year. I’ve never had that, but I know what it feels like to not be much fun.” It’s like Cameron goes slack, some level of tension draining from her as she presses her nose into Donna’s palm. “I can be here for you or not. Whatever you want, whatever helps. Okay?” 

Cameron closes her eyes, leaning in to press her face against Donna’s shoulder. There’s a muffled, “Okay.” 

They stay pressed together until the water turns tepid, until the light outside starts fading to burnt orange. Cameron pulls her from the tub, wrapping them both in a towel and leading her into the bedroom. 

Donna feels a burst of relief when Cameron tosses the towel aside, pulls her down onto the bed, and very deliberately presses their bodies together. She’s alright with words but this is easier, this is a language they’ve adored learning together. Donna lavishes her, pressing her mouth and fingers to every beauty mark, every scar, ever hair follicle and pore, every inch she can until Cameron is whining and digging her fingers into her scalp and only then does she make love to her, and it’s good, it’s the best because it’s been a few days and Cameron is tired and hurting and all Donna wants is to make her feel nothing but good for a while. 

 

There’s a pounding on the door. For half a second Donna’s convinced she’s dreaming it, but then Joanie’s voice cuts through her sleep, “Um, you guys know that it’s like 9 o’clock? And your daughters are starving? And you didn’t cover the fire and could’ve burned the place down??”

Fumbling in the dark, Donna untangles herself from Cameron’s octopus limbs and finds the towel mixed into the bedclothes. She wraps it around herself before stumbling to the door. Her eyes ache at the sudden light and Joanie waggles her eyebrows and grins when she sees her. Donna attempts a death glare, but she’s still far too nap foggy. “Put on water for pasta, I put some ground turkey in the fridge to defrost. We’ll make meatballs.”

Joanie rolls her eyes, but she’s still grinning. “Alright. And make sure you put some clothes on before you come to dinner, young lady.” 

Cameron sits, in the same sweatshirt as earlier and looking wonderfully bedraggled, at the kitchen table, watching them cook and holding a mug of Haley’s still boiling hot famous hot chocolate (made on the stove, with real milk and cocoa, and a pinch of her secret ingredient, ground coffee). She’s quiet throughout dinner, listening to the day’s exploits, but she smiles whenever Donna catches her eye. The week will end and they’ll go home, but there’s no need for worry anymore. Their storms and quiets make their roots grow stronger and deeper. 

She squeezes Cameron’s hand under the table and Cameron squeezes back.


End file.
